


Plumfield's Damon

by realismandromance



Category: Little Men - Louisa May Alcott
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Drama, Family, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-04 05:00:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4126272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/realismandromance/pseuds/realismandromance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the true culprit in the affair of Tommy's missing money is revealed, Dan and Mrs Jo have a heart-to-heart chat, in which Dan talks about his difficult life before Plumfield. What if he weren't as well-adjusted as he let on? Ties in with '<a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3218924">The Fiddler and the Fire-Brand</a>', though both stories stand on their own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plumfield's Damon

> _'Dan stood it pretty well for a minute, but the sight of Mrs Jo's delight upset him, and he suddenly bolted across the hall into the parlour, whither she instantly followed, and neither was seen for half an hour.'_

Slamming doors at Plumfield was discouraged, even while in the grip of some strong emotion, but Dan paid no heed as he entered the parlour at a run, and it was only the swift hand of Mrs Jo that saved the door from being blown off its hinges behind him. She caught it and shut it carefully, dampening the clamour emanating from the schoolroom, where Mr Bhaer and the rest of the students remained.

'Dan!'

Slowly, his breathing sharp and loud in the stillness, he turned towards her. Getting a proper look at him for the first time in several days – for he'd been avoiding her, as he had the others – Mrs Jo caught her breath. For a boy past fourteen, he was tall (taller than herself), brown and strong – and yet, there was something very small and defenceless about his entire countenance. The sheer happiness and pride on Mrs Jo's face staggered him; for a moment, he simply stared, barely moving, and she was sure she spied in his eyes a longing to escape.

'Dan.'

It was Mrs Jo's gentle tone that worked far better than any sharp rebukes or hasty criticisms; despite the clear desire to again flee from the presence of others, as he had done so many times in the past, he stayed put, allowing her to lead him to a large sofa. She was so, so happy that his name had finally been cleared, and her confidence in his loyal and changed nature justified, but she could see that this was a delicate situation, so she put her strongest emotions in her pocket and said the name of her last and most interesting boy a third time, very gently: 'Dan, what is the matter?'

This was a situation that called for a mother's listening ear, words of wisdom and unconditional love. She must take care not to lose Dan's trust in her, after she had worked so hard to gain it.

'It's – it's … you ain't angry after all, but pleased.' Dan's voice was very low.

Mrs Jo was bewildered at his reaction, but did her best not to show it.

'You told a kind, kind lie and sacrificed yourself for the sake of Nat,' she said, holding his gaze. 'Oh, Dan, I'm not just pleased, but proud of you as well.'

'Never saw anyone so pleased on my account before. Didn't know what to think when I did.' The tone was deliberately careless, with that unbothered inflection they had tried to break him of, for it signified a lack of heed and respect.

Mrs Jo considered.

'Suppose you talk to me about it.'

Dan was a fellow of few words; unused to disclosing details of his past life, even to those who knew and cared about him, it took him a while before he finally said:

'Ain't much to tell, really.'

'How did you become friends with Nat?' said Mrs Jo, determinedly seeking an opening.

Dan shifted uncomfortably, looking away.

'He reckons I took care of him, saved his life maybe, but it weren't much. Saw him fiddling one week, looking 'most starved, so I gave him some bread. I thought it'd be just once, but …' Dan swallowed, studying his brown fists, 'I couldn't seem to stop.'

'How did you get the bread?'

'Sold papers. The pay was decent enough.' Here Dan raised his black eyes at last, and something seemed to show him Mrs Jo's unsaid question, for he answered her train of thought: 'Ned guessed right, though he didn't know it. I  _did_  pick pockets, long ago – only when I got so hungry I couldn't stop the devil in me any longer. But I never gave Nat anything that wasn't come by honest. I ain't proud of it, and I wouldn't do it now, but I did, once or twice.'

'How else did you get by before you came to Plumfield?'

Looking relieved to drop his train of thought, Dan seized this new topic with an openness and speed of speech unusual to him, as if knowing she would not give up, and wanting to get it over with.

'Never had any folks. I lived in an orphanage 'til I was eight, before I ran away – couldn't stand it any longer. After that was the streets – rough, but you learn real quick how to get by. Then I lived in a poorhouse for a little while. It wasn't bad, only awful strict; and there was an old lady with nineteen cats who lived nearby, who was real kind to me when – when the folks in the poorhouse weren't. But I don't like to talk about it, much' – and Dan shut his mouth firmly; a moment later, however, he let out a bitter laugh. 'S'pose you won't want to keep me, now you know what a bad lot I am. Always reckoned it was too good to be true – Plumfield, and you and Teddy and Mr Bhaer …'

Mrs Jo hesitated. This was a vulnerable side of Dan she had never glimpsed before, but which resembled most the boy who had returned to Plumfield one July night, with a lame foot and a heart that scarcely dared to hope for forgiveness.

'"A bad lot?"' she repeated, struggling to contain the catch in her voice. 'Do you really believe we would think of you in that way? That we would grow to hate you because of where you've come from? That we would throw you out on a moment's notice?' Tears filled her eyes, but she did not brush them away.

Dan had buried his head in his arms as if waiting for a sentence to fall, but upon hearing the tell-tale waver in Mrs Jo's tone, he sat up abruptly to meet her gaze. His face was damp, and his eyes shone strangely; if anything, he was stricken by how upset she was.

'It's a tough thing to get used to,' he muttered hoarsely. 'Living with people who care about you, I mean. I never had any before, but I never knew how much – how much I missed 'em 'til I came to Plumfield.'

Mrs Jo's reaction to this latest, heartbreaking, revelation was swift – knowing exactly what was needed, with all the kindness of a mother's love, she quietly reached forwards and gave Dan a warm hug. It took a moment, but a pair of strong brown arms wrapped around her and he buried his face in her shoulder; if two hot tears wet her sleeve, she did not own that she had noticed.

When they broke apart, Mrs Jo gave Dan a light kiss on the cheek, and he did not shy away as he might have once done.

'I told you, Dan, after you helped find Rob that night and you said you wished you were my son' – here Dan bit his lip, looking peculiarly contrite – 'that "you shall be my oldest son". No, don't be sorry, or feel ashamed for wishing. You are my boy now, and  _shall_  be my oldest son, as much mine as Rob and Teddy, and nobody can ever change that. We mean to keep you, as long as you would like to stay, and do the best by you that we can.'

'Reckon you didn't think much of me at first,' and Dan grimaced wryly.

Mrs Jo recalled that first glimpse of Nat's scowling, black-haired, ragged friend, and her immediate impression of him as 'a bad specimen', exacerbated by his attitude and the way he stirred up her boys – a fire-brand cast in their midst.

'No, I didn't,' she said truthfully. 'But you've  _changed_ , Dan, you've changed! It's as simple as that, and as wonderful.'

After the very personal conversation they had just had, she half-expected him to revert to his usual taciturnity, but instead, he squared his shoulders and addressed her.

'Mother Bhaer' – oh, how it thrilled Mrs Jo to hear those words from Dan's mouth – 'I'm sorry for lying – I knew it wasn't right, but I just  _had_  to do something to stop the boys from plaguing Nat. He was so downright miserable I couldn't stand it any longer.'

In the stillness of the parlour, the morning light shone from the window, illuminating Mrs Jo's face, and her look of love and acceptance replaced all words. Dan had asked for forgiveness, and it was granted, for Mrs Jo could not fault the way he had given up something very precious to him, just so his friend could be happy; then, when the secrecy of his act could no longer be assured, he had stood up and taken the blame, though it meant sure ostracisation and trouble.

Neither of them knew how long they sat there in silence, but presently Mrs Jo rose and beckoned to Dan to follow her.

'Let's rejoin the others,' and she opened the door slowly.

The crowd in the schoolroom had settled, for the most part; only the kindly professor and a few boys – including Nat – were talking about something or other: Mrs Jo distinctly heard the phrase 'Damon and Pythias', and correctly derived what famous tale Professor Bhaer had calmed their flock with.

'Of course,' she murmured to herself. For what better friendship could Dan and Nat's bond be compared with, than the one between the loyalest of all, whom we must all endeavour to emulate?

'You're Plumfield's Damon now,' she told Dan joyfully – and, when he frowned, she hastened to explain, 'It's a beautiful story of two friends – Mr Bhaer will tell you all about it.'

Dan tried to slip into his seat unnoticed, but the boys alighted upon him at once, and over their heads, Mrs Jo met the kindly eyes of her husband. A silent message passed between them, speaking of success, for peace had returned to the jolly halls of Plumfield after this moral earthquake, and the barriers between Dan and Mrs Jo had been swept away, leaving nothing but happy tranquillity.

**Author's Note:**

> The italicised quote at the beginning of this story is taken directly from _Little Men_ (Chapter 14: Damon and Pythias).


End file.
